


Long Live our Noble King

by Ohbutthenightisyoung



Series: the happy and the glorious [2]
Category: British Royalty RPF, Downton Abbey, Downton Abbey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29949048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohbutthenightisyoung/pseuds/Ohbutthenightisyoung
Summary: Second story of 'the happy and the glorious' series!The year is 1933 and the Crawley's are going to London for the season!
Relationships: Charles Carson/Elsie Hughes, Cora Crawley/Robert Crawley, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon | Queen of England (1900-2002)/George VI of the United Kingdom, George V of the United Kingdom & Mary of Teck (1867-1953), George V of the United Kingdom/Mary of Teck (1867 – 1953), Isobel Crawley/Richard "Dickie" Grey, King George V/Queen Mary of Teck, Mary Princess Royal/ Lord Lascelles, Queen Mary/King George V, Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis, Tom Branson/Lucy Smith
Series: the happy and the glorious [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138394
Comments: 16
Kudos: 10





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Andddddd we're back!!!!
> 
> Finally got myself sorted and sat down to write this!
> 
> It's not a long opening, but the first proper chapter is going to follow soon so keep an eye out!  
> FYI, I will not be having George V die in 1936, and in fact for this story, his illness in 1931 never happened!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Downton abbey, all rights belong to one Mr Julian Fellows. Also, I will refer to historically accurate things as best as I can, but obviously as I do not know everything about the time, nor did I live in it, I can’t account for everything so just roll with it :)

Bran Castle, Southern Transylvania.

Sunday 2nd April 1933, 4:05am

Grey and ominous. It seemed to be the only way to describe the morning that lie ahead; both in the figurative and literal sense of the words. The dawn still sat below the horizon, the faint tendrils of light slinking through illuminated the castle’s interiors in a pale dim light that crept through the dark of the room.

The room’s singular occupant shivered lightly as she watched the daybreak. The castle itself was well heated, but it was a cold light that the morning emitted; whether it should be taken as a sense of foreboding remained unclear to the woman but still she remained where she was, unable to tear her eyes away from what could possibly be an omen of her fate.

In a few hours it would rain. The morning light would darken, and a musk would suffocate the air as the deluge descended. What little illumination was present would soon be extinguished.

But she wouldn’t be here to see it.

No, in a few hours, if all went well, she would be on a ship, heading home for what she hoped was the final time.

It would hurt her to leave Romania, of course, but there was so little left here for her now. Her eldest son had helped destroy what little support she had, and the people she sought to help would no longer accept her. There are times in one’s life that acceptance of defeat must be faced, and it must be done with all the dignity and grace one could possibly muster.

Romania hadn’t been her home for a while now. She would simply have to make her mark somewhere else, by some other means. By whatever means necessary.

The scratching sound of a clearing throat drew her out of her musings and back into the wheyfaced-lit room. Sloping her face to the left, she afforded the intruder a side-eye acknowledgment. The companion of her prospective travels stood in the corner by the door, admittedly she had not heard him enter in the first place.

He was tall and angular. Strikingly so, he exuded elegance from his every feature.. The angularity of his facial structure gave him an almost feline beauty, complimented entirely by his sleek dark hair and ice-blue eyes. His long fingers flexed as he clasped them, one hand over the other, in front of him. His graceful neck arched and tensed enticingly as he titled his chin up towards her, waiting.

“We are ready, Your Majesty,” his voice slithered through the space between them, pleasantly smooth, the ends of his words curling like smoke. He had a hint of a Romanian accent, though his pronunciation was so clean it took on more of a neutral tone.

“Thank you, Nicholas,” she replied softly, turning her face away from him; conceding his words and yet making no attempt to move from her current position. Now the moment had come it was truly bittersweet.

She drew a shuddering breath and steeled her resolve, determination boarding up in her spine once again as she faced her decision to leave.

At last, Dowager Queen Marie of Romania turned from the east-facing window of Bran Castle and as her heeled boots echoed against the stone walls and floor she let out a huff of laughter, prompted by both fear and genuine amusement, at how they signalled the first steps of her journey to England.

Queen Marie was leaving her country.

Missy of Edinburgh was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story I've decided to add Marie of Romania/Edinburgh, as you can probably guess. I'm choosing to portray her in a different way to the person she actually was, so I'm aware it's not accurate (don't come at me :))))))
> 
> I actually think she was an amazing, badass person irl!
> 
> But for the purposes of my story, these historical figures are not going to be portrayed 100% acturately!
> 
> As always angels, let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little update!  
> This story may be a little more of a slower burn than the last, since I've planned more chapters!

Buckingham Palace

Monday 3rd April 10:30 am

“Lilibet, come _on_!”

“Shhhhhhh! They’ll hear us!”

“ _Stop fidgeting_!”

“I’m trying! Move over, Nora….”

 _Creak_.

The bickering whispers ground to a halt with two tiny gasps as the floor groaned under the weight of an advancing footstep. Momentary fright gave way to hushed giggles as the six- and seven-year-old princesses hid behind a bay-window curtain.

_Creak._

The murmuring of voices was getting closer as their ‘seekers’ drew nearer, and the two girls tried and failed to smother their laughter. Princess Eleanor and Princess Elizabeth of the United Kingdom were engaged in a most pressing game of hide-and-seek and were currently hiding from their uncle/brother and younger sister/niece.

Princess Elizabeth was the older of the two, her rich brunette curls pinned neatly against the side of her head, and her blue eyes wide and sparkling. At the age of seven (“ _I’m almost eight you know_ ”) she had grown into a kind and conscientious little girl, timid at times, a stickler for order, but no less fun-loving than her antithesis, Princess Eleanor. Practically the complete opposite of her niece, little miss Nora was a boisterous and energetic personality. She had a cheeky smile that lit up her cherub face, giving her a misguided appearance of well-behaved innocence. Her golden curls fell in unruly ringlets in every direction imaginable, not that they ever started the day so untamed, but inevitably always ended up being so. At six years old she was the spit of her mother, but her mannerisms were all her father as he had been as a young prankster. Not that she was an unkind child, in fact she could be sweeter than pie, but like her father and brothers before her, she enjoyed immensely the occasional practical joke.

Which was why, once again at Nora’s suggestion, she and Lilibet were hiding behind the curtain, ready to jump out at David and Margaret, whom they could hear approaching with every creak of the floorboards.

“Uwcle David I hear dem!” the little three-year-old Princess Margaret tittered excitedly.

“Really, Margot?” David mock whispered, knowing full well his eldest niece and youngest sister were well within earshot and, if their muffled giggles were anything to go by, had hear him perfectly.

 _Creak_.

“Fee Fi Fo Fum,” David boomed, intentionally making his footsteps louder as he approached the curtain, mimicking the giant of the rhyme, little Margot clutching his hand and practically vibrating with excitement. “I smell the blood of an Englishman!”

_Creak._

“Be he alive…” _Creak._ “Or be he dead.” _Creak._

Margaret grasped her uncle’s hand tighter as nerves took their hold on her, no matter how many times they played this, her sister and aunt _always_ managed to jump out and scare her.

“I will grind his bones to make my…”

“BOO!”

Margaret shrieked in fright as the two girls ripped the curtain aside and jumped out.

“Oh my lord!” David cried in mock fear as he scooped up his little niece. “Run Margot!”

“Get him Lilibet!” Nora screamed in delight as she and Lilibet took off after their uncle/brother.

Their feet thudded collectively on the carpet lining the gallery, doing their best impression of a stampede as the foursome sped through the grand halls of Buckingham Palace, shrieking, and squealing the whole way, drawing the attention of numerous staff members, who smiled fondly before returning to their work.

The London season’s preparations were well underway at the palace, the décor buffed and polished down to the last infinitesimal detail, so its grandeur shone through and dazzled. Undertaking such work required all hands-on deck, as such it was extremely rare to turn a corner and find a space unoccupied. There were people _everywhere_ getting things ready; a fact that failed to discourage the little bullets whizzing through the corridors. The four Windsor’s weaved and winded their way through the organised chaos, dodging poor unsuspecting workers and nearly running one or two off their feet.

Preparations were also being made in advance of the arrival of the Crawley family, who would arrive in early afternoon in time for tea. Just as the tradition of New Years at Downton had been struck, so had the tradition of the London season spent at the Palace together from April through to the late summer, sometimes even as late as the end of August. Grantham house would be opened as well and would house the younger members of the Crawley clan along with the Prince of Wales and the Dukes of Kent and Gloucester. The elder Crawley’s would take their rooms at the palace and the children would house in the nursery with Nora, Gerald and George; Lilibet and Margot making their way over everyday to visit from their house in Piccadilly with their parents. 

It always proved to be a merry gathering, as they enjoyed together the society life of balls and dinners alongside the intimacy of private get-togethers. Nora and Lilibet were particularly thrilled at the prospect of seeing their Downton friends, only George, Caroline, Sybbie and little William Bates on this occasion as Marigold would remain with her parents and brother in Northumberland and would not be joining them for the season this year. 

It was this budding excitement that had driven their respective parents up the bally wall; thankfully, David had offered to help them blow of some steam.

And this was how he found himself sprinting across the gold and red plaid carpet, his youngest niece in his arms, the terrible duo snapping at his heels in hot pursuit. He was dangerously close to collapsing in a sweaty asthmatic heap on the carpet.

He slowed to a gentle jog, ignoring Margaret’s pleas in his ear to keep running. He eventually came to a stop, panting heavily against the wall, partly to keep himself upright, partly to brace himself for the incoming impact of two little imps.

“ _Oof_ ,” he grunted as Nora collided with his stomach.

“Got you,” she giggled sweetly, her arms wrapped around his waist, her gleeful little face grinning cheekily up at him.

“So you have,” he chuckled breathlessly, tweaking her nose between his thumb and forefinger, not noticing the sound of a door opening further down the hall.

“What’s going on here?”

“PAPA!”

David chuckled lightly as he watched his baby sister take off like a shot down the hall towards their father, who had appeared from his study clutching a letter in one hand.

“Hello sweetheart,” George rumbled, bending down to catch the little whirlwind before tossing her lightly in the air. “And just where are you running off to, young lady?”

“We’re playing hide and seek!”

George arched his brow. “Are you indeed? And who is winning, pray tell?”

“We are!” Both girls cried in unison, Lilibet now skipping round her grandfather’s feet and swinging from his free arm.

“Excellent! Just what I like to hear!” the King praised the two girls, squeezing Nora a little tighter. “Glad to see you giving Uncle David a run for his money.”

David huffed at that. “I suppose it’s only fair I’m the one getting jumped out on now.”

George snorted. “Indeed,” he agreed. “As I recall you nearly gave your poor sister a heart attack on many an occasion.”

“And then she snitched on us and refused to play unless you went around with her,” David grumbled quietly, still bitter in a way only siblings could be.

“Who’s the letter for, grandpa?” Lilibet asked curiously, noticing for the first time the letter grasped in George’s hand.

“It’s for Grannie,” he answered, letting Nora slide down to the floor. “I’m trying to find someone to deliver it to her.”

Nora’s eyes lit up. “We can do it, Papa! I can give Mama the letter!” she pleaded, reaching up to grasp at the paper, her golden curls bouncing as she jumped up and down.

George pretended to ponder this. “Hmmm I’m not sure…”

“We can do it Grandpa,” Lilibet agreed eagerly, rising up and down on her toes in her anticipation to see her grandmother.

“It’s a task of the utmost importance,” he said, adopting the most convincingly serious tone he could muster.

Echoes of ‘please grandpa’ and ‘please papa’ hounded him almost at once, and though he knew he wouldn’t have said no in the first place, their tiny pouting faces made it impossible for him to drag the tormenting out any longer.

“Oh alright,” he sighed dramatically, handing the letter over to his youngest, who snatched it eagerly. Before he could say another word the three girls had torn past him and had rounded the corner towards his wife’s study before he could even blink.

“Keep an eye on them will you, David?” George sighed, turning to his son. “Else your mother will have my head for thinking I let them go on their own.” 

David smirked, pushing himself off the wall and languidly strolling after the girls. “Will do, Papa,” came his response as he set off after his charges, leaving his father shaking his head fondly at his hyperactive brood.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday 3rd April 11:00 am

The ticking of the mantle clock and the scratching of her pen were the only sounds to break the quiet symphony of the room in which Queen Mary sat at her desk working on her morning correspondence. She worked silently and efficiently, steadily working through the pile of letters that sat next to her, a mercifully small pile this morning.

A soft knocking at the door sounded out, and she barely looked up from the letter she was writing or paused in her sentence as she bade whomever it was to ‘come in’.

The door opened quietly, revealing a twitter of excited whisperings that made Mary smile. She knew exactly who was at her door.

She kept her back turned to her visitors, pretending as though she couldn’t hear their rather loud ‘tiptoes’ across the room to her. She smirked gently as she heard Lilibet shush her two companions into silence, as though it would’ve made any difference whatsoever.

She further pretended not to notice the little face appearing by her right elbow, nor the accompanying little hand that reached ever so slowly towards her desk, holding an envelope. The offending article was slid ‘stealthily’ onto her desk and pushed to rest next to her right hand, before the arm quickly withdrew with a giggle.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed with false surprise, picking up the letter and turning it over in her hands. “Where on earth has this letter come from?!”

Poorly concealed giggles were her response and Mary had to bite her lip to prevent her own laughter from bursting forward at the antics of the little girls.

“It must’ve been the little fairies that live in the attic,” she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear, provoking another spattering of laughter and forcing a smile onto her own face, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“IT WAS US!” came the joint banshee-like scream, as three little bodies threw themselves at her.

“Goodness gracious me,” Mary gasped, dropping the letter, a hand flying to her chest as the princesses erupted into shrieks of joy.

“We scared you, Mama” Nora got out between fits of laughter from her sprawled position on her mother’s lap.

“You most certainly did, you little rascals,” Mary joked, playfully swatting at them with her hands, which her two granddaughters managed to dodge. Her daughter wasn’t so lucky.

“MAMA STOP!” Nora pleaded as Mary tickled her ribs, keeping firm holding of her so she couldn’t escape.

“And just what are you three monsters doing in here?” Mary asked, sitting back in her chair as she released Nora, who was red faced and desperately trying to catch her breath.

Margaret toddled over to her grandmother’s chair, leaning her body against the woman’s leg. “We bring Gwanpa’s wetter!”

“Grandpa’s letter?” Mary asked, stroking the sweet girl’s cheek with her finger. “And where is this letter then?”

“Here, Mama!” Nora thrusted the now slightly crumpled envelope into her mother’s hands.

“How exciting.” Mary reached for her paper knife, sliding the blade under the fold, opening it with one clean stroke. She was careful to place the knife back out of reach of the children, especially Margaret who now stood just below the height of the desk and was well within grabbing range.

Mary read George’s letter, absentmindedly stroking Nora’s curls as Lilibet and Margaret played on the floor behind them. David had slipped in the room as his nieces and sister bombarded the Queen, and he now lazed on the sofa keeping the promised eye on the girls.

“What’s it say, Mama?” Nora asked, noticing the smile that had settled on Mary’s face as she read her husband’s words.

“Hmm?” Mary asked distractedly, glancing up at Nora. “Nothing darling.”

“So, you’re smiling at nothing?”

Mary ignored David’s snigger at his sister’s sass as she tapped her daughter on the nose. “Don’t be so cheeky, you nosey little parker! It’s my letter.”

“Ohhhh, is it a secret?” Nora whispered, leaning in close so her face was nearly pressed against Mary’s.

“Exactly,” Mary answered, brushing their noses together. “It’s a secret.”

“I like secrets,” Nora giggled.

“So do I,” Mary smiled. “But this is mine and Papa’s secret, so your mind your own business young lady.”

Nora responded with a pout, folding her arms over her chest, to which Mary only shook her head.

“You know that only works with your father,” Mary drawled as she returned to her letter, unimpressed at her daughter’s efforts.

“Worth a try,” Nora grumbled, scooting off Mary’s lap to join David on the sofa.

Mary shook her head, returning to her husband’s letter, unconsciously smiling as she read it, her teeth chewing her bottom lip in order to contain the bubble of joy that threatened to burst forth.

Clearing her throat, she gently tucked the letter back into its envelope and placed it aside to answer later. Much later, when prying little eyes were at no risk of spying. For now, she picked up her pen and continued to work, content to do so amidst the chorus of little voices. 

“Alright, let’s leave Grannie to her work.” Ignoring the groans and shouts of protest, David swept Margaret up into his arms, dangling her infront of Mary who kissed the laughing girl’s cheek. And receiving a grateful smile from his mother, proceeded to walk towards the door, throwing over his shoulder “unless it’s only Margot who wants to help me get the nursery ready for the Crawley’s?”

“NOOO,” the two little girls shot after him, desperate not to be left out. Mary scoffed as the door closed with a definitive clunk behind them. She heaved a sigh as she once again picked up her pen to resume her writing. She only hoped the season would not prove as chaotic as the three children seemed intent on making it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update! I hope to be a bit more organised this time getting my updates up; I hope to do at least one a week, if not more!
> 
> This ones a little longer that the last two!

Downton Abbey

Tuesday 4th April 1933 9:15 am

“Come along now, hurry up! Or we’ll miss the train!”

Gravel crunched underfoot as footmen ran back and forth from house to wagonette, and from wagonette to house, carrying trunk after to trunk to load onto the vehicle, often taking three or more to wrestle the offending items up onto it. It was truly remarkable how much clothes could weigh when bundled in significant quantities.

Thomas Barrow, butler of Downton Abbey, stood in the doorway of the house in question, supervising the organised chaos that now almost seemed commonplace; if anything, the house staff seemed to thrive in this environment. His posture was relaxed, yet proud, as he inspected his charges, his sharp eye missed nothing and no one, often resulting in a sharp word being thrown at unsuspecting housemaids and footmen. He was dressed all in black; black hat, black gloves, black shoes, black coat flapping in the wind; the only thing that wasn’t black was the clipboard he held in his right hand, his eyes running down the list every now and then, making sure they had everything they needed to open Grantham House for the season.

Standing beside him was a smaller brunette woman, in late middle age, dressed head to toe in navy blue. She held in her hand a small bag that matched the rest of her outfit, she too had taken the one-tone approach to dressing. As was the expectation of their station. She stood quietly, surveying the scene with watchful bright blue eyes and a calm demeanour, offering a comment every now and then but more or less content to stand back and let Mr Barrow take charge.

“Careful!” She heard him snap beside her. Turning her head, she saw the poor hall boy Mr Barrow had scolded, wobbling precariously on his feet under the weight of a particularly large trunk that was threatening to topple with him. Thankfully, Andy caught the poor lad before disaster could strike, and the two heaved the case onto the vehicle.

“What time will your husband be joining us?” She heard Barrow inquire, glancing over to see him looking at her curiously.

Just like when the Royal Family came to Downton for the New Year, Carson always made sure to accompany the family to London for the season. Though technically retired, he split some of the duties with Mr Barrow, ensuring the elder wouldn’t become too tired, and the younger was allowed to spend some time elsewhere, though the ‘elsewhere’ in question was never addressed. Besides, Carson would never have been able to cope with being away from his wife for four to five months out of the year, having never been separated for that length of time while they were married and the former ‘Mrs Hughes’ having accompanied the family to London the last few years before that.

“Oh he’ll meet us at the station, so you don’t have to worry about saving a seat in the car,” she answered. “He wants to be there to meet the cases and make sure they get onto the train.” 

“Once a butler…” Barrow murmured, just loud enough for his companion to hear. She responded with a chuckle.

“You’ll be the same one day,” she said quietly, watching the last case being loaded. “It sticks with you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or frightening.”

She shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Are you looking forward to seeing your Goddaughter again?” Barrow asked in a sudden change of topic. Elsie’s face broke out in a wide grin at the mention of the little princess.

“I am rather,” she admitted, her obvious joy causing Barrow to mimic her smile in response. “Charles is to,” she added. “Nora is quite taken with him, as most children somehow seen to be.”

“Gentle giant,” Barrow supplied, though not making it clear if he was offering a suggestion or stating it as fact. Elsie nodded her agreement either way.

“Are _you_ excited? Elsie asked him.

Barrow turned to face her. “About what?”

Elsie merely responded with a look that said they both knew what she meant. Barrow bent his head to hide his blush as he thumbed the silver token Richard had given to him, in his pocket. He let out a silent breath of laughter at being known so well.

“Yes I am.”

Elsie smiled at him and Barrow smiled back, seeing no judgement or scorn in her expression. He’d grown fond of Mrs Carson as probably the closest to a mother-figure he’d ever really had. Knowing that she’d accepted him for who he was. Had he been a betting man, he could venture to say she cared for him; a turn of events that wasn’t unpleasant to Barrow as it might once have been.

“Ready to go, Barrow?”

As the voice cut through their dwellings, the two heads of house turned around to greet the man to whom it belonged.

Lord Grantham came marching out of the house ahead of the rest of his family who walked a few paces behind, nattering on about something or other.

“We don’t want to miss the train,” the Lord stated, placing his hat onto his head as his wife climbed into the car ahead of him.

“All ready, milord,” Barrow answered, walking towards the front of the car as Mrs Carson walked over to the other with little William Bates, who accompanied his parents during the season and stayed with his friends at the palace. The King and Queen rather approved the idea of Nora having many friends all from different backgrounds, in order to gain a more open understanding so to speak, and so were only too delighted to accept William to stay as well. Especially since he was taught in and spent his days in the Downton nursery with the other children. “We’ve still plenty of time and Mr Carson is to meet us at the station.”

“Jolly good.”

Robert slid into the seat next to his wife with a small groan as Andy closed the door behind him before making his own way to the staff’s wagonette. His small groan did no go unnoticed by his wife.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Cora’s lilting American voice asked him, ever so slightly laced with underlying concern.

“Nothing at all, it’s just been a rather hectic morning.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not looking forward to it,” Cora teased as the car finally pulled away from the house.

Robert scoffed as Cora giggled at his expression. “Absolutely not!”

“Are you looking forward to it, darling?” Robert asked, taking Cora’s hand in his own.

Cora squeezed his hand tightly with her own, giving him a dazzling smile. “Every minute of it,” she promised, leaning in and giving her husband a quick kiss, conscious of the other people in the car.

Robert let out a hum of content as he settled back into his seat. He really was looking forward to his time in London. Ever since the first time they’d be invited to stay by the King and Queen, he’d had a sort of renewed interest in the London Season and found himself eager for the month of April to arrive. It was no mere trifle of an occasion that made him glad to leave Downton for any period of time.

 _No_ , Robert thought, as he gazed at the passing scenery, Cora’s hand still intertwined with his. This was an occasion well worth leaving Downton for.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buckingham Palace

Tuesday 4th April 1933 2:45 pm

Mary rapped her knuckles against the door to her husband’s study, knowing full well he’d be in there with his head bent over some document or other and would probably have not heard her at all. As such, the knock was more of a formality for the benefit for the staff.

She entered the room without waiting for the reply she knew she would never get anyway, opening the door to reveal exactly what she knew she’d find. Her husband hunched over in his chair, his red box open on the desk before him, reading a piece of paper intently. So intently in fact, that he didn’t notice her until she was halfway across the room coming towards him. He greeted her without so much as turning his head; Mary guessed he’d recognised her perfume.

“Hello, my love,” he mumbled distractedly, brow furrowed as he placed the first paper neatly face-down on the desk, moving on to read the second.

“Nothing too distressing, I hope,” Mary said in lieu of greeting, standing behind his chair, placing her hands on his shoulders and squeezing gently, having made the crossing across the room to him. Absentmindedly, George reached his left hand up to his shoulder, grasping her own and placing a kiss to her fingers, never raising his eyes from the sheet. He remained silent, neglecting to answer her, too focused to register her question.

“George,” Mary said, squeezing his shoulders again and shaking them slightly, biting back a smile at his grunted reply.

“Georgie,” Mary sang in a sing-song voice.

“Hm?”

“The Crawley’s will be here soon, darling.”

The second piece of paper was put on top of the first, moving onto the third. “Yes, good, good,” George mumbled.

Mary leaned over, wrapping her arms around the upper portion of his chest, resting her chin on his right shoulder. “So we need to be ready, yes?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” George grunted, his eyes still not leaving that blessed sheet of paper. Honestly, the man worked like a fiend sometimes.

“So,” Mary drew patterns with her finger on his chest, “you best come get ready. Hmm?”

“Yes, yes, good idea,” George grunted, very likely not having the foggiest what he was agreeing to.

Mary smiled, pressing the side of her face to his, feeling his beard gently scratch her skin. She nuzzled her nose to his cheek, smiling brightly as she felt him lean into her ministrations. “I need to get ready too, you know,” she said, nonchalantly picking some lint off his jacket.

 _Grunt_.

“I have absolutely _nothing_ to wear.”

 _Grunt_.

Mary bit her lip. “And since I have absolutely nothing to wear, I thought I might greet them wearing _absolutely nothing_ …”

“Yes, yes, excellent…”

George spun round, nearly knocking Mary’s chin with the full force of his shoulder, causing her to take several steps back in order to avoid being hit.

“You what????” He said aghast, looking nearly furious at the idea. Mary choked back a laugh at George’s face that was on the verge of going bright red.

“Well that finally caught your attention,” she said, smiling sweetly, smoothing her hands down her duck-egg blue skirts.

George growled. Rising from his chair, eyes glinting furiously, he stalked over to her, his long strides catching up to her with minimal fuss. He grasped her firmly by the waist, pulling her roughly towards him so they were nose to nose.

“You better be joking, you little minx,” he growled, clearly irate that his wife was enjoying tormenting him.

“Why darling, I thought you liked seeing me with nothing on?” She asked innocently, batting her eyes prettily.

George smirked. Two can play that game.

“Oh but I do,” he agreed, dipping his face to her neck, his breath ghosting her skin as he trailed his lips up the graceful slope. “It’s my favourite sight in the world.”

Mary’s breath caught in her throat, momentarily taken on the back foot. Her eyes fluttered minutely, and she sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Well then,” she swallowed, her mouth suddenly rather dry, her fingers fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. “Mutual benefit to both sides.”

“But you see therein lies the problem, my dear,” his words, silky smooth, vibrated against her skin, causing an involuntary quiver to course through her, her hands sliding up his arms to grasp his broad shoulders.

“And what is that?” she breathed, as he nipped her bottom lip playfully, raising his eyes to look dead into hers, chests heaving, hearts racing.

“I don’t like to share.”

Their lips barely brushed when they broke apart with a gasp.

“Oh for Christ’s…” George swore as he pulled his giggling wife closer to him. Someone was knocking at the door.

“Come in,” he barked, releasing Mary, and stalking back to his desk, extremely put out that they’d been interrupted.

The door opened to reveal Sir Clive Wigram, the King’s private secretary, who bowed his head to the King, and upon noticing the Queen was also present, performed the same act in her direction.

“Your Majesties,” he greeted.

“What is it, Wigram,” George grunted, still sulking slightly as he slumped back down in his chair.

The private secretary, used to the King’s gruff manner, did not look forlorn at his address, and simply stated the news he sought to relay. “The Crawley’s have arrived, Sir.”

“Thank you, Clive,” Mary smiled, answering before her husband could, not trusting him to respond with language befitting a King; more like befitting the sailor he once was. “We’ll be right out.”

“Ma’am,” Wigram smiled, bowing his head once again before retreating from the room, the door closing behind him.

“We best get going then,” George grumbled, locking the papers in his box, pocketing the key, before standing again with a sigh. “Looks like you won’t have time to undress for me after all.”

Mary snorted. “Lech.”

George turned with a sullen expression towards the door, dragging his feet behind him as he walked.

Mary rolled her eyes but followed him and caught him just before he reached the door. Grasping his arm to hold him back, she wound her arms around his neck, drawing him into a steamy kiss that left his head spinning. Their lips moved together seamlessly; effortlessly, and Mary let out a little hum of content as her tongue danced with his. She pulled back before she could sink into the kiss and let him have his way with her, her shoulders shaking with laughter at his dumb look.

“Hmpf,” he said intelligently, looking rather dazed as he still held her tightly.

Mary pressed their foreheads together, whispering quietly, quite aware that there were likely eager ears listening outside, possibly a footman and Wigram.

“What if I promise to let you undress me later?” She hummed against his ear. Drawing back she burst into laughter at his hopeful, childlike expression, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“Come on!” Mary laughed, grabbing his hands from her waist, and pulling him along as he stumbled after her obediently.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buckingham Palace

Tuesday 4th April 1933 3:15 pm

The gates of Buckingham Palace parting before the cars was never any less of a surreal experience than the first time it had ever happened. The taught black iron held in itself an imperial magnificence that matched even that of the weather-worn stone it guarded.

Five Royal cars had come to meet them at the station. Two would take the staff, the younger Crawleys and their relevant belongings to Grantham House, the remaining three would take the rest to Buckingham Palace. The first car carried Cora, Robert, Sybbie, and George. Baxter and Moseley sat in the front of the car with the Chauffeur. The second carried Isobel, Dickie, Violet and Maud (who had met them at the station, disembarking from her journey from Cumbria), Denker and Maud’s own maid in the front of their car; the third and final car carried only four: William Bates, Caroline, Lucy, and Tom. Tom would return to Grantham House after ensuring the children were settled, however, Lucy would stay at the palace with her mother. She would of course dine at Grantham House in the evening and attend all the parties, but her bedroom was to be here. The issue wasn’t that she was unmarried, there just was no physical room left to spare. They were crammed to the rafters since the three bachelor Princes George, Henry, and David would be joining Mary, Henry, and Tom.

The cars finally pulled up in a line in front of the entrance hall, the staff lined up either side to meet them. Princess Mary with the Duke and Duchess of York stood upfront, with their four children and Princess Eleanor; the five of whom were fidgeting and bouncing on their feet, waving frantically at the four children arriving in the cars.

“Wait…” Elizabeth started to say. But it was too late.

No sooner had the car doors been opened had the young children sprung free, met in the middle by the ones who had raced to them. Embraces and giggles were exchanged as their parents looked on fondly, stepping forward to give greetings of their own.

“Welcome!” George called as he and Mary stepped out of the palace to receive their guests.

“Your Majesty,” Robert bowed, as his family followed suit, before having his hand grasped firmly be the monarch as more informal greetings were shared.

“Cora,” Mary smiled, the two exchanging kisses. “How are you all?”

“Well thank you,” Cora replied, stopping short as she felt a small body colliding with her legs. Looking down she was met with the smiling face of Nora who looked delighted to see her godmother. “Hello trouble!”

Nora giggled as Cora’s fingers brushed the hair at the top of her head. “Hello Auntie Cora, hello Auntie Isobel,” Nora said, waving cheerfully at the older woman who happily waved back before greeting the child’s mother.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Maud feigned indignation as Nora failed to notice her, turning away in a huff.

Nora giggled again, abandoning the countess, racing over to her Auntie Maud, wrapping her arms around her torso and clinging on until the woman relented, giving up her act in favour of a proper embrace.

“Go play with your friends, little monster,” Maud tweaked the child’s nose before she shot off to catch up to the other children who were being led inside by Nora’s nanny, Miss Wilkins.

“Nora don’t run,” her mother called after her.

The little girl gave no indication she’d heard, her golden curls flying out behind her as she continued her pace. The Queen shook her head, exasperated. Satisfied the girl was safe with her nanny, Mary turned back to their guests. 

“Come inside,” she fussed, “we can’t have you standing out here all day.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Isobel replied cheekily, sidling up to Mary and letting the Queen slip her arm through her own, ignoring Violet’s twittering over her cousin’s words. “I was quite enjoying the scenery myself.”

“Oh hush you,” Mary laughed, as the two women led the party up the staircase that lead to the gallery of rooms they were all occupying. “Don’t make me regret inviting you.”

“As if you ever could,” Isobel sniffed, bumping Mary with her hip. Maud snorted her disagreement behind them, causing the two to erupt in gales of laughter, earning a harumph of disproval from Violet, who was being escorted up the stairs on the arm of the King.

“Tea is in the green room when you’re all ready,” Mary announced as they reached the corridor of bedrooms, “take as long as you need of course, you’ve had a long journey.”

“We’ll all be there shortly,” Cora reassured her, the crowd thinning as they disappeared into their respective rooms to change, various maids and valets following after them.

Bertie and Elizabeth walked on towards the green room, arm in arm, cheerily engaged in conversation.

Waiting until the two rounded the corner, George held his arm out for Mary to take. “Shall we, darling?”

Mary smiled, looping her arm through his proffered one. “Yes,” she replied, giving a kiss to his whiskery cheek.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he muttered quietly, grinning wolfishly at her answering chuckle.

“Shut up,” Mary admonished fondly as they made their way after their son and daughter-in-law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
